


Jackpot

by eldritchdomesticity (EsotericBear)



Series: Consentacles Week [1]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil is Inhuman, Consentacles, Eldritch Abomination Cecil, M/M, Other, Tentacles, consentacles week, there is actually some plot to this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 18:46:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EsotericBear/pseuds/eldritchdomesticity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos doesn't know that Cecil has a body to match his tentacles, but the cat's out of the bag when Station Management is rather less than permissive about vacation time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jackpot

**Author's Note:**

> This work is day 1 of Consentacles Week, and follows "I Hope That's Washable" chronologically. However, this fic is capable of standing alone if you haven't read the others.

Carlos looked up from his work to smile at the radio. Cecil was talking about him again. It was like Cecil didn’t know that Carlos and the rest of Night Vale could hear him chatting like a schoolgirl about their upcoming romantic vacation. Carlos had asked him whether he had ever been to any places outside of Night Vale aside from possibly-nonexistent European countries, and how difficult it would be to get time off, and apparently Cecil thought this was newsworthy information. 

“After this broadcast, I’m going to go to Station Management with the weight of over a full year of unused sick days to back me up, and I am going to ask them for time off. I do not know how they will respond to such a request, as I have never made one before—hence the year of unused sick days—but I do know that it will be worth it to go on a vacation with my Carlos. He mentioned maybe showing me his hometown; now, I don’t know about you, listeners, but the idea of traveling to a place filled with people who grew up with Carlos in their lives fills me with gleeful anticipation. Aside from that, though he would never admit it—as it is against the law to do so—I think that he might be more than a little homesick, which, as you all know, is a highly dangerous communicable disease and should be treated with the utmost care as it can only be completely avoided by never leaving one’s hometown.” He continued on for far longer than Carlos thought was even vaguely within the realm of professional conduct, and when the weather came on Carlos decided to go to the station to wait for Cecil so could surprise him by taking him out to dinner as soon as he finished the broadcast. There was a new tapas restaurant on the edge of town that had some excellent wheat-substitute dishes that he’d been wanting to try. 

Carlos waited on the hood of his car, listening as Cecil said his final goodnight and then hastening to switch the radio off before the special on the sound of despairing bees humming traditional dirges came on. He switched to his mp3 player instead and put it on shuffle while he waited. It played an entire album of songs that Carlos thought were reasonably catchy, yet was certain that he did not own, and then a dramatization of a psychology textbook Carlos vaguely remembered using once in high school. When Carlos had been refreshed on the concepts of critical periods and the development of object permanence, he began to worry. Surely Cecil couldn’t have that much paperwork left to do after the broadcast was over; usually he was out within a quarter of an hour after the end of the show, and sometimes Carlos saw him leave just as the live broadcast was wrapping up, the words “Good night, Night Vale, good night” issuing from is speakers just as Cecil crossed the threshold. 

Unable to wait any longer, Carlos slid off the car and strode inside. "Cecil,” he said, when he found the man standing outside of the door marked “Station Management”. “What’s been taking you so long? I’ve been waiting for you outside, I thought I’d take you to dinner and—” 

“Carlos, stay back, it’s not—” Management’s closed door rattled and something thumped against it. “It’s not safe,” Cecil said. “They’re agitated that I asked for time off after spending so much time on non-news items in tonight’s broadcast.” A red envelope shot out from under the door, and Cecil ripped it open, reading it quickly. He addressed the door: “I’ll have you know that I have more than a year of unused sick days—” 

He was interrupted as the door tore violently open, revealing the creature within. Carlos, despite having a clear line of sight, couldn’t quite see it clearly; it was blurry around the edges, but it seemed to have black, muscular, oily-looking tentacles and exuded a distinct feeling of dread. Inexplicably, it was also wearing a fashionable tie. “Carlos, run!” Cecil yelled, but before Carlos could do anything an inky appendage whipped him off his feet and threw him into the opposing wall. Carlos held his head and braced for another blow. When it did not come he looked up to see Cecil standing over him, a folding chair in his hands as he fended off the monster. 

Carlos felt his eyes well up, though whether that was the pain in his head or the sight of his lover confronting the only thing that had ever seemed to scare him to protect Carlos, he wasn’t certain. Management seized the chair in one tentacle and hurled it out of reach before wrapping an oozing appendage around Cecil and hoisting him aloft. Carlos cried out, but there was little he could do. 

“Don’t look, Carlos,” Cecil urged, his voice marred by pain. “Just run!” Much as his sympathetic nervous system urged him to comply, Carlos found his feet rooted to the floor. He looked on as Management began to squeeze Cecil and started to turn purple; he thought at first that it was asphyxiation, but then Cecil’s arms split at the elbows and he began to fight management off with four claw-tipped hands. “Go!” Cecil shouted at him again, his voice sounding so distorted through a mouth that now held a set of four insectoid mouthparts that Carlos jolted into action. He sprinted down the hallway, looking back only once, to see that Cecil was now struggling to kick with four shins that tapered to strange two-clawed feet. He tore himself away from the sight and bolted. 

~oOo~

Cecil fought back against Management desperately, knowing that he was losing even despite the added power of his eldritch form. He could feel the tentacles growing tighter around his wide, leathery thorax and constricting around his grossly elongated neck. He considered shifting back to his more human form, just in the vain hope that, should his body be recovered—which it most certainly would not be—Carlos would have something to mourn over that was not hideous and sanity-destroying. 

The thought of Carlos made him screech and redouble his futile efforts, scrabbling at the horrific creature that sought to part them. He would fight horror with horror, he thought, and he thrashed and roared and bit. Yet even as he bellowed his protest, Management seized on the opportunity of this emptying of his lungs and squeezed him still tighter. Cecil panted and struggled; with every breath his thorax was further constricted. His eldritch physiology meant that he did not need as much air as a full-blooded human would, but even so his vision began to distort. He could no longer see the dark infrared blotch of Management, nor could he discern the ultraviolet reflections from the last rays of the setting sun outside. Finally, the color of the visible spectrum began to leach away and his vision tunneled as he took his last gasps of breath. 

Cecil closed his multitude of eyes, regret surging through him. How could he have been so stupid as to confront Management? How could he have put himself, and more importantly, Carlos, in danger like that? He wished he could see him again, to apologize, but Carlos was gone. He took solace in the thought that at least he was safe. He would mourn, but he’d find someone else to love eventually, Cecil was certain. He would haunt him if he did not, the price of becoming an earthbound spirit be damned. He imagined his caramel voice, as he said—

“Cecil, duck!” A full, piping hot pot of coffee flew over his head and shattered in the middle of Management’s writhing mass. Carlos charged after it, wielding a chair that he used to batter any exposed part of the hissing creature. It let go of Cecil and turned its attention to Carlos, whipping tentacles that Carlos deftly batted away with the chair. Carlos hit it again, near the center of the roiling tentacles, where the coffee had burned it. It shrank away from the blow, and, miraculously, retreated, slamming the fractured door behind it. 

“Carlos,” Cecil croaked, but then he heard his voice as it carried through too much neck and was shaped by the wrong kind of mouth. “No, don’t look at me!” he shouted, and scurried backward on four legs into his recording booth. He whipped the door shut behind him and fell back against it, two of his legs pivoting to hold it shut as he willed himself to change back. 

“Cecil! Cecil, are you okay?” Carlos called through the door. 

Cecil’s mouthparts worked furiously as he processed the concern in that voice. “I’m—I’m fine,” he choked out, hating how he sounded like this. Carlos had to think he was a monster. It was the truth, after all, and it was a scientist’s job to seek out the truth. He focused on blinking his extraneous eyes out of existence, on shortening his neck, on fusing his forearms back together. 

“Please, Cecil, let me in. I have to know that you’re all right.” 

Cecil took a deep breath as his shins fused. He pushed himself off the door and opened the it with one hand, clutching his tattered clothes in some semblance of modesty in the other. He could not look Carlos in the eye, but he checked the rest of his body, looking for any wounds Management might have inflicted. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

Carlos took off his lab coat and wrapped it around his partner. “Just a little bruised from where I fell. I’m much more worried about you. It was horrible to see you. You looked like…”

Cecil braced himself. “Like what, Carlos?” he choked out. 

“Like you were being squeezed to death. I was worried that I was too late,” Carlos said, gently pushing aside Cecil’s tattered shirt to check his ribs. Cecil looked down at the hands of the man who was voluntarily touching him after seeing that monstrous form. 

“You’re badly bruised, but I don’t think anything is broken. Does it hurt anywhere that I’m touching?” Carlos asked, almost calmly. Almost as if he hadn’t just seen the two worst horrors of his life. 

“It’s sore, but it feels a little better where you’re touching me,” Cecil said, and Carlos smiled sweetly. He looked like he was going to say something, but just then a red envelope shot out from under Management’s door. 

Carlos sidled toward it, snatched it up, then sprinted back to the relative safety of the recording booth to read the missive. 

“You are fortunate,” Cecil intoned, reading over his shoulder and translating from Modified Sumerian, “that the Voice is an asset not easily replaced, and that our superiors are of the opinion that the Voice’s productivity would be diminished were he or his Scientist crushed to paste between our tendrils. You may have one week.” 

“That’s great,” Carlos said with a smile tempered by near-death experience. “Now I can take you to meet my parents. If you still want to after all this, that is. Given that we were both nearly killed, I understand if you just want to have a quiet—hey, hey, it’s okay, Cecil, it’s okay, we’re both okay and we survived, that’s what’s important.” Carlos reached out and wiped away the tears from Cecil’s face with his thumbs. “Come on, I’ll drive you home, and then I’ll make those enchiladas you like, okay?” 

“Okay,” Cecil squeaked, not quite able to bring himself to correct Carlos, to tell him that of course he couldn’t meet his parents, that as soon as Carlos remembered that he was an eldritch horror he wouldn’t want him to be anywhere near Carlos or his family. Nearly dying was just making his memory fuzzy right now, Cecil was certain. 

~oOo~

Carlos cleared up the plates and went over to Cecil. He hadn’t moved except to bring food to his mouth since they had gotten back to Carlos’s apartment. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. 

“Of course,” Cecil said, but his voice was flat and toneless. 

It hurt Carlos to hear it like that. He must have made a face, because Cecil reached up to kiss him chastely but reassuringly. When Carlos tried to deepen the kiss, however, Cecil pulled away, not looking at him. 

“I’m sorry, Cecil, that was thoughtless of me. I should give you some time to recover, huh?” Cecil was silent. “It’s just, you—you risked yourself to save me. And then you turned into that—then you grew all those extra parts, completely defying various conservation laws, and when Management had retreated and you were just standing there on your four legs and looking at me with all those eyes before you fled into your recording booth…it hurt, actually, because I knew you had been hiding it from me, that you’re still hiding that body from me. Cecil, I don’t want to push you when you’re still shaken from the confrontation, especially if it’s not easy or comfortable for you to change, but I really would like to see you like that again, when you’re ready.” 

“What?” Cecil exclaimed, and all but fell out of his chair. “You looked at me like—like that—and—”

“And I was disappointed when you wouldn’t let me look at you before you changed back,” Carlos finished for him. 

“Most people, if they saw me like that…I was afraid you wouldn’t know whether to attack me or Station Management,” Cecil mumbled into the intact tunic he’d put on for dinner.  
Carlos took him by the hands and squatted so that their eyes were level. “Why would you ever think that?” 

“I’m a monster,” Cecil said. “I’ve only ever been seen fully manifested like that by two other people aside from my parents. One of them called me a horror, and he dumped me before moving to the other side of town. The other one…went insane shortly afterward.” 

“Oh, Cecil,” Carlos said, and stood to slide his arms around the man. “I’m so sorry. I won’t ask you to manifest if you don’t want to.” 

“No, Carlos, I…Are you really sure that you want to see me like that again? That you won’t be disgusted?” 

“Absolutely,” Carlos replied. “I want to get to know everything about you, every part of you that you are willing to show me. But only if you want me to,” he insisted. “Don’t you dare feel like you have to just because I asked. It’s your amazing body; you make the choices. I’m only here to enjoy it if you feel like showing it to me.” 

Cecil stood, set his jaw, and took Carlos by the hand. “All right, then,” he said.

“Are you sure?” Carlos asked, allowing himself to be dragged over towards couch in the living room. 

“I’m tired of hiding things from you, and I—I want to know what it’s like, to have someone see me like that, and not run away.”

“Oh, I’ll do a lot more than not run away if you let me,” Carlos said lewdly. 

Cecil’s eyes went wide. “Well I’ll just…” he started to pull his tunic over his head. 

“Here, let me help you with that,” Carlos purred, kneeling to pull Cecil’s pants off, and then his boxers. He was greeted by the familiar bundle of tentacles, and he palmed them appreciatively, earning a low noise from Cecil, before sitting back to enjoy the show. “Whenever you’re ready.” 

“You’re sure you want this? We can just pretend that you never—”

Carlos cut him off. “Cecil, remember when you first let me see your tentacles?” Cecil nodded, his tendrils unknotting a little as he remembered. “Cecil, I love you, and I want to love all of you, if you will let me.” 

“O—okay. I’m—um. I’m going to manifest now.” Cecil looked to Carlos, who nodded his encouragement. Cecil smiled nervously before closing his eyes. He shuddered; his skin tone deepened to violet as his legs stretched and split at the knee, feet lengthening into what looked like mammalian approximations of some arthropod’s tarsi. His arms split as well, leaving him with two five-fingered hands and two three-fingered ones as his torso lengthened. Two, then four new limbs sprouted along it that were like the legs of a centipede, only leathery-looking rather than chitinous. Cecil’s four fists clenched as his neck stretched and stretched until finally it was as long as the rest of his body combined; at the end of it was a pearlescent, almost metallic-looking purple face with four mouthparts that gaped and then settled. When Cecil opened his eyes, he had eight of them spread across his face and more on the upper part of his neck. His pelvis sank and reoriented, becoming bulbous like the abdomen of a spider, held up by his matching legs. His tight bundle of tentacles spread up along a lengthening vertical seam; the line of tendrils split at the thorax to run across his ribs and under his shoulder blades, sprouting thick and muscular along his spine. There, they darkened to black, and seemed almost to boil in place, forming and re-forming as they undulated. These tentacles, Carlos noted, lacked the delicate suckers that lined the ones on his abdomen, around where his member would be. Cecil’s head swiveled on its long neck to look at Carlos expectantly, the transformation now, apparently, complete. “Well, what do you think?” he asked, and despite the fact that he had four of them now, Carlos recognized the nervous fidgeting of his hands. 

“You remember when I told you that you were handsome?” Carlos asked, and Cecil nodded. “Well, I was wrong,” he said, standing. All of Cecil’s eyes went wide. “You’re drop-dead gorgeous.”

“Do you really mean that?” 

“Yeah. Look at you, it’s like you cherry-picked all the best traits of various cephalopods, mammals and arachnids. I really did hit the jackpot with you,” he cooed, reaching forward to cradle Cecil’s suspended face. “Now I just have to figure out how to kiss you,” he said with a grin. 

“This can’t be true, you can’t be true, I must be dead or hallucinating, Management must have killed me, even my mother would never—” Cecil protested, his neck arching and pulling his face away from Carlos’s hands.

“Cecil,” Carlos said, cutting him off. “Cecil,” he repeated, reaching for the eldritch hybrid, fingertips just barely able to reach rubbery skin of Cecil’s chin. “On our first night together, you were so busy trying to apologize for not being able to make your body look fully human, and I was just hoping that human/half-eldritch sex was possible, and then I saw what you were packing down there. Do you remember what I said?”

Cecil’s neck undulated and brought him eye-level again with Carlos, placing his cheeks in waiting hands. Carlos stroked him reassuringly on either side of his mouthparts. “You said, ‘Oh my god!’”

Carlos hummed. “And then I said, ‘Jackpot!’ and nearly died of embarrassment.”

Cecil’s mouthparts moved, and Carlos could tell from the familiar crinkling around the now-numerous eyes that it was a smile. “At least you never said ‘Neat!’”

“I think from an objective viewpoint anyone would say that ‘Jackpot’ is much more embarrassing,” Carlos said, “but we can argue about that some other time, don’t you think? I still haven’t worked out the best way to taste fully-manifested half-eldritch saliva.” 

“I could—I think I could help with that,” Cecil said. He tentatively spread his mouthparts, revealing the tooth-like ridges that lined the inside edges and a long, hollow-looking, sucker-ended thing that Carlos decided to call a “tongue” rather than a “proboscis”. Cecil paused, looking askance at Carlos. Carlos took a moment to appreciate the view of his weirdo boyfriend with mouthparts spread invitingly before leaning in to enjoy them in a more tactile manner. 

He closed his eyes and sucked Cecil’s tongue into his mouth as his mouthparts closed around his cheeks and chin, grasping gently with toothy ridges that were cool and surprisingly smooth against his face. Cecil’s long, energetic tongue darted about Carlos’s mouth, and it felt more like he was being explored and sampled than like kissing. Carlos had difficulty reciprocating the unpredictable movements of Cecil’s tongue, which tasted and sucked gently at his gums, his palate, his cheeks. He had resigned himself to passive appreciation when Cecil’s tongue thickened and sought its way deeper into his throat. He ran his tongue along it, and when he sucked, Cecil fluttered his mouthparts and trilled softly. Carlos felt the tongue spasm and then he was swallowing a volume of oddly cool liquid.

Carlos’s eyes went wide and Cecil started and pulled away, dragging his long tongue out of Carlos’s mouth; a thick rope of fluid connected their mouths for a moment before Cecil broke it with some hasty movements of his mouthparts. They didn’t seem to be able to close properly around the engorged tongue, yet Cecil’s speech was unaffected when he apologized. “Oh, Carlos, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that!” Now that Carlos thought about it, Cecil’s voice didn’t seem to be coming from his mouth at all, even though it moved with the words. “I got carried away, and I haven’t had anyone kiss me like this in so long—ever, actually—that I—”

Carlos pulled Cecil’s head back down to eye level. “Cecil, it’s fine, I don’t mind, really. It just kind of surprised me a little. What was that?” 

“It’s um. Well…” Cecil’s head swayed evasively. “You know when you really want to kiss someone, and your mouth sort of waters?” 

Carlos caught a pair of Cecil’s hands—the set with six fingers between them—in his own to calm him. “Yeah. People salivate when there’s something foreign in their mouths, and imagining it can work just as well.”   
“Well, it’s like that, except it happens all at once, with me. Especially when I’m, well, excited.” Cecil turned away in embarrassment. “Usually it um. It takes longer.” 

Carlos suppressed a chuckle. He didn’t want to make Cecil feel even more self-conscious, but the idea that he was worried about Carlos judging him for his premature tongue-ejaculation was more than a little amusing to him. He kissed the closest section of neck, since Cecil’s face was out of reach again. “You know, I have absolutely no frame of reference for half-eldritch salivary responses, so you could have just told me that that was impressive endurance for your kind.” 

“And lie to you? Never, Carlos.” Cecil sounded aghast.

Carlos realized that some might say that Cecil had been effectively lying about his shape for all this time, but he instead stepped awkwardly over one of Cecil’s splayed, spiderlike legs to put his arms around his interestingly elongated and flattened torso. More limbs than normal returned the embrace, but it felt just as nice as ever. “Oh, Cecil, don’t change.”

“I won’t if you won’t,” Cecil promised. “Although I think this shape might be a bit inconvenient to drive in,” he mused. “I might have to get a car custom-made for me.” 

Carlos grinned and looked up at Cecil’s hovering face. “Maybe we should just never go anywhere. Then we could have as much time as we wanted with each other.” 

“I think you would start to miss science,” Cecil said.

“Who said I wouldn’t be doing science? What makes you think I’m not doing science right now?” he said, wrapping one hand gently around the base of Cecil’s neck as the other was stroking Cecil’s sides and thumbing along the vertical seam that lead to his genitals. “I’ve already tested the suitability of a half-eldritch mouth for kissing a human, and I’m thinking—” his hand slid lower “—about my next experiment right now,” he said. He now had one hand tangled in Cecil’s tentacles as far down along the vertical seam as he could reach without squatting. Cecil hummed and extended his spidery legs, raising his abdomen to give Carlos better access. “Why don’t we take this to the bedroom?” Carlos suggested. 

“I don’t think I can…” Cecil hesitated.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” 

“I don’t think I’ll fit,” Cecil said, head hanging with embarrassment. The effect was rather greater now that his neck was longer than the entire rest of his body. “Or I might be too heavy like this.” 

“Give me two seconds,” Carlos said, extricating himself from the bundle of tendrils. He patted Cecil’s head where it hovered near his knees and carefully avoided tripping over any limbs before darting for the linen closet. He returned with an armful of blankets, and, shoving the couch out of the way with his back, he spread them on the floor, fluffy duvet first, followed by the easier-to-clean sheets and pillows. “There. Now we have plenty of room to spread out.” 

Cecil’s head shot out to nuzzle Carlos, his body following quickly to wrap him up in an embrace. “Oh, Carlos,” he sighed. “I never expected…” he trailed off as he stepped onto the makeshift bed.

“What?” Carlos asked, wrapping his arms around Cecil’s long thorax as far as they would go. 

“I just always hoped maybe, maybe someday I’d find someone who was willing to tolerate me like this, but I never once thought…that I’d find anyone who would actually like me enough like this to make a nest on the floor because I won’t fit in the bed with him.” 

Carlos lifted his head from Cecil’s chest and looked about for a moment before finding Cecil’s face near his right arm. It was difficult to locate when the voice came from somewhere else. “Cecil, you’re gorgeous. Your body is amazing, it’s so much more than I could ever be, whether you’re fully manifested or not. Don’t let anyone ever tell you anything different. I love you, Cecil, and I would very much like to…demonstrate that,” he said, punctuating the statement by running his hand along Cecil’s midline. 

Cecil made a rumbling noise that Carlos took to be positive. “I’d—I’d like that,” he stuttered. 

Carlos knelt on the pillows among Cecil’s legs and stroked his bulbous abdomen as the tentacles in the middle unfurled. Most of Cecil’s eldritch body was new to him, but these were very familiar. He took a delicate-suckered tendril into his mouth and sucked with practiced enjoyment. Four claw-tipped hands carefully gripped his head and shoulders, encouraging and stroking and threading through his hair. Cecil’s tendrils surged forward to meet him, growing and spreading in direct proportion to Cecil’s pleasure as Carlos took more of them into his mouth and stroked others with his hands. He nosed his way to the cleft he knew he would find in their center and licked the flared member that was already peeking through the opening, then let go of the tentacles to coax it out in earnest, rubbing the shaft and cleft while he sucked on the tip. Cecil’s tendrils, no longer being held apart by Carlos’s attentive hands, wrapped around his face and neck, writhing and reaching down toward his chest, slipping inside his shirt to tease his nipples. 

“Oh, Carlos,” Cecil sighed. “Oh, Carlos!” he repeated, this time in alarm, as Carlos pushed forcefully away, gasping. Cecil scrambled to remove the tendrils from Carlos’s face as he struggled for air. “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to smother you like that!” 

Carlos panted until he’d caught his breath before replying, “I’m fine, I’m all right, no worries. Just try to keep my airways clear, okay? I’m not really into erotic asphyxiation.” 

Cecil nodded vigorously, the movement made strange by his long neck. “No tentacles in noses, got it!” 

“Well, at least not when I have something in my mouth, too,” Carlos said, caught between embarrassment and arousal. “Now, where was I?” he asked, wrapping a hand around Cecil’s member. 

“Oh, right about th—there, Carlos, yes,” Cecil said as Carlos licked around the leaking orifice at the tip. He found that with it fully engorged, he could no longer fit the whole thing in his mouth at once, so he settled for stroking with both hands as he used his tongue on the tip. When he had Cecil twitching, he sat back on his heels to admire his work; Cecil made quite the picture with all those limbs, his tentacles splayed and reaching, his member standing erect and pre-come pooling in its slightly-concave, flared tip. There was just one problem.

“Cecil, I’m sorry, but there’s no way that that is going to fit inside me,” he lamented. The shaft of Cecil’s member was at least as big around as Carlos’s elbow; the head was even larger, and the whole thing was longer than Carlos’s arm. 

Cecil’s multitude of eyes went wide at the thought. “Oh no, no, Carlos, I would never—it would tear—no, I—I never planned—I actually thought that you could, that you could top. If you wanted, I mean! You don’t have to!” 

“I’d love to,” Carlos said, relieved. He probed Cecil’s midline to see if his entrance was still in the same place. When he found it below the main mass of tendrils, he prodded it with a finger already slick from Cecil’s secretions, which were far more plentiful with him in this form. “Only, I want you to enjoy it too,” he cautioned. “Won’t I…won’t I be too small for you now?” His index finger was already slipping easily in and out of Cecil, so he added another. 

“I don’t—mm, that’s nice—I don’t think you’ll have any pr—problem doing that with how talented you are, Carlos, really,” Cecil assured him, breathing heavily from the attention. “Besides, my prostate’s still more or less in the same—oh!”

“Right where I left it,” Carlos said, smiling as he withdrew his fingers, glad that it wouldn’t be too far in for him to reach. He stood and unbuttoned his pants, his cock springing up as soon as it was freed; it had been painfully hard inside his jeans. “I could take you standing, but the angle might be difficult with the height difference,” Carlos commented as he kicked his pants off.

“Oh! Right, of course.” Cecil lowered himself onto the makeshift bed. Carlos watched as he arranged his limbs; on some level, he knew the sight of a giant tentacled spider-creature in his living room should be terrifying, but Carlos felt only adoration for his boyfriend and arousal at the wanton way his legs were spread for him. 

“Comfortable?” Carlos asked, removing his shirt. He wanted to make sure, because he had no way of telling whether Cecil’s legs should bend like that. They stuck straight out from his body, displaying the insides of the knees where his legs split and the bottoms of his four clawed feet. 

“Completely,” Cecil replied, his clawed toes curling and his member twitching and oozing from watching Carlos undress. 

“Good.” Carlos went over and cautiously straddled him. “Tell me if anything hurts, all right? I can’t tell yet what parts of you are delicate like this, and which ways they’re all supposed to bend, or which parts are bruised.” 

Cecil chuckled. Carlos thought the sound was coming from the base of his neck, but it was difficult to say. “I appreciate it, but you really don’t have to be so careful, Carlos. I’m a lot more sturdy like this than I am usually.” 

“Okay,” Carlos said, stroking Cecil’s entrance. “Just tell me if there’s anything—”

Cecil’s head swooped in to stare at him over his leaking member. “Please don’t tease me, Carlos, say so if you don’t want me but please, just don’t taunt me with your—” he broke off with a pleased moan as Carlos penetrated him easily, and his tendrils splayed then wrapped loosely around his lover’s torso. Two of them slithered towards Carlos’s entrance to prod him as his dick was engulfed in Cecil’s cool body. 

“Ah, Cecil,” Carlos sighed. “I’m—I’m not going to last very long if you do that,” he said. It was true; he was already close, and he hadn’t even started to move yet. 

“That’s good,” Cecil breathed, “because I’m about to—to go off as it is.” His member was already leaking profusely, and his tentacles had become so large and numerous that Carlos had difficulty seeing through to his torso. They wrapped around his legs and his arms, pulling his hands to Cecil’s member. When the two thin tendrils breached him, he gasped and jerked, his hands fisting involuntarily around Cecil. “Oh, yes, Carlos, squeeze me,” Cecil urged. 

Carlos complied, grasping Cecil tighter than would be safe for a human, and thrust, using Cecil’s member as a handhold with no hips or torso left uncovered by tentacles for him to grip. The tendrils inside him moved in counterpoint, and a thicker one snaked around to his mouth. Carlos gladly opened to receive it, and it, too, matched his pace. He thrust harder, feeling his orgasm build; Cecil writhed inside him, and his member was now completely blackened with the dark pre-come Carlos had been spreading with his motions. 

“Carlos!” Cecil keened, and Carlos felt mouthparts latch onto his shoulder. 

Carlos squeezed Cecil’s member, twisting his hands in opposite directions; he grunted as the tentacles inside him reacted enthusiastically. One of them rubbed against his prostate and he gasped, thrusting deeply into Cecil. Cecil screeched and tightened around Carlos, shooting black ejaculate out across Carlos’s torso and face. Mouthparts dug into his skin as he thrust one, two, three more times into the black, writhing mess before he came, pumping his load into Cecil. 

“Oh my god,” Carlos panted when he was again capable of speech.

Cecil released Carlos’s shoulder and withdrew his tentacles from Carlos’s orifices, watching Carlos twitch at the sensation of his suckers rubbing the sensitive flesh. “Was it what you expected?” he asked, sounding breathless. 

Carlos pulled out and collapsed on top of Cecil. “No,” he said, tracing the impressions of Cecil’s mouthparts on his shoulder with a finger. They hadn’t broken the skin anywhere, and the pattern the ridges made was intriguing. “But my imagination isn’t nearly good enough to have come up with that.” He grinned to his left, where Cecil’s face was currently hovering. 

Spidery limbs embraced him. “Does that mean we can do it again sometime?” he asked, head snaking close enough for a kiss. 

Carlos gave him a peck on the mouthpart. “Absolutely,” he said. He wriggled a bit before he managed to slide off of Cecil and stand without stepping on any limbs. “But right now I think we might both need a shower,” he said, looking down at the long black stripe down his front that matched the one that decorated Cecil. When he licked his lips, he could taste him, and he was sure some of his fluids were in his hair. He would have written off the saturated blankets as unsalvageable if he hadn’t figured out how to wash the ejaculate out of sheets a long time ago. The key was to remember that bleach, for some reason, just set the stains, but regular detergent and sweet-talking the washer worked wonders. Carlos was beyond worrying about how any compliments could possibly affect a machine by this point, though he did wonder if he could adapt the technique to convince it to remove sweat stains as well. “Hm.” 

“What is it?” Cecil asked, arranging his limbs to stand. 

“I wonder how difficult it would be to get a custom shower built for you,” he mused. 

Cecil ran two hands along his neck in what Carlos took to be an embarrassed gesture. “You don’t have to do that for me; I could always just shift back to normal to shower,” he said. 

“Yeah, but I want to shower with you like this,” Carlos replied, taking one of the less-saturated blankets and attempting to clean Cecil up a little. 

“You really like it that much?” Cecil asked. 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Even though I’m too big for you like this?” 

“That’s what tentacles are for, isn’t it?” Carlos replied. 

Cecil’s mouthparts moved, and it was already easy for Carlos to recognize it as a smile. “You are so right, Carlos.”

**Author's Note:**

> Cecil's eldritch form is an homage to one of my favorite creatures from media. I have a free drabble for whoever is the first to guess which one~


End file.
